Oriental glow in Darxination

Oriental glow in Darxination

From Chapter 7. ESTERA

They left Oriental Glow in late twilight. The warm night kept the streets in a light embrace of faint rose fragrances lulling about. These combined sensations, a pairing spirit, fluttered perfumed feathers on Marcus’s cheeks, augury wings in his mind.

He stole a peep at his date. Estera breathed the embalmed quietness, her charmed senses avid for angels’ arcane distilleries. Therefore, a successful night for Marcus so far. He dealt better in women than in real estate.

But the pivotal trial lay ahead. Estera had to sit the test of the house, and it stood in his power to arrange the scene so that she passes.

Despite the stellar, ethereal air haloing that girl, so confusing, Marcus traced a mundane vein in her, perfect to give him the right therapy. He needed to deepen himself into her warm, reassuring, dark earth.

“This way,” he said, leading her through the maze of streets. “I reserved the best for the evening’s mysterious denouement. A queenly treat for you, Estera.”

“For you, too?”

“A king’s, dear, for me.”

Aa-maaa-do mio!

Against the tableau’s silence, the singer’s voice shrilled to scare the skies.

“Damn phone,” Marcus said. “Now, this is pushy. Who’d be so shameless to call at this ungodly hour on a sacred Saturday? Wait here, I have to take this.”

Marcus stepped back on their previous track, not affording to glue his ear to his mobile—android, so damn touchy.

“Do not shout, Nina, please. I’m just about to close a deal—isn’t that fruitful enough for you?”

Not for her, no. Stupid woman.

“They invited me to a restaurant, oriental—that happy they are with the property. We’ll close the deal there.”

“The Oriental Moroccan, Marcus?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, can’t drop this privileged opportunity.”

He pressed the bold shut-up button and then rejoined Estera.

Oriental dreams

“I’m back. From this granite slab on, no one will disturb our idyll. Come.” Marcus pointed ahead in a ceremonious thread. “To your queen’s quarters!”

He grabbed Estera’s hand, and leading the way, received through his fingertips’ vigilant pores subdued energy, warm at first. Yet, icicle vibes permeated that warmth, and cold perspiration oozed through the girl’s pores.

“What? Your touch grew stiff. Relax, dear me, Estera, I’m ready to show you the star property on my list. Bring your friend tomorrow, your parents, whoever, but you must taste its far-fetched charm tonight.”


“Not quite, but oriental dreams fly from its garden.”

“Where is it?”

“Not far, on one of these streets. But we’ll cross the border to the old Jewish quarter.”

“Aha, somewhat oriental. My father says it once was the poshest in town.”

“Right. The richest merchants in the old times built it: jewelers, bankers, shipowners.”

“Weren’t the shipowners Greek?”

“They too, sure. Fierce competition drew them—who built the most opulent mansions for their household gallery of spoiled family.”

“Yeah, heard something about that building race.”

“Marcus knows. And you’ll see what courtyards they devised for their wives, young maids and kids. They led that kind of bella vita, those folks.”

“Dolce far niente.”

“Exactly—wallowing in our blessed town’s grand Oriente. The magnates, busy dealing and wheeling, while frail housewives, maidens, and heirs enjoyed these luxurious abodes in peace.”

“On swings swaying in tiered gardens, weaving oriental dreams of Semiramis.”

“Estera, your voice smells ancient princess.”

About the author

Solar Writer walking on the dark side to bring mind's secrets to light, in romances with a psychological edge. Next Woman blogger showing you how to use the power of SELF to stay young, confident and magnetic.